


Nothin’ But A Hound Dog

by shepardly



Series: Overwatch/Fallout New Vegas AU [5]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas, Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nothin’ But A Hound Dog quest, mccree is the dad that never wanted a dog, rex is a good dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27625769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepardly/pseuds/shepardly
Summary: Hanzo is determined to help the cyberdog that he meets in Freeside. McCree is not nearly as enthusiastic. Rex is a good dog.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Series: Overwatch/Fallout New Vegas AU [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1485764
Kudos: 32





	Nothin’ But A Hound Dog

***

McCree still had dishes from his breakfast sitting in front of him on the bar while he nursed the coffee that Francine had just topped up for him when Hanzo took the stool next to him. The Courier looked _nearly_ as annoyingly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed like he did every morning, although he did have a few subtle signs of a restless sleep about him. Despite that, McCree tried to mentally prepare himself for what was likely going to be a lot of information, and quickly. It took more than a bad night to slow Hanzo down.

“So,” Hanzo said, studiously looking anywhere but directly at McCree, “there’s a dog.”

It wasn’t as much information as McCree had been expecting, but he still recognized the tone for what it was. It meant the rest of his day was booked, at the very least. He took another sip of coffee and when Francine caught his eye he silently motioned for another coffee to be brought over.

“Good morning to you, too.” McCree drawled as Francine put down the mug and poured the steaming liquid tar that regulars had come to love to hate. “Sleep well?”

Hanzo’s shoulders slumped, but he thanked Francine and picked up the drink while she headed out from behind the bar to help someone who was seated closer to the empty stage, which meant she didn’t see the face he made when he tasted the coffee. McCree smothered his grin by taking another sip of his own. It _was_ terrible, and he knew the caffeine addiction would be miserable to get over if they ever stopped hanging around Freeside, but it had already become part of his morning routine.

“ _Good morning_ , McCree.” Hanzo said pointedly. “I slept well. And you?”

“Liar.” McCree said good naturedly. “I can see those dark circles under your eyes just fine. Nightmares, again?”

Hanzo scowled at him.

“I thought we were being polite.”

“We are.” McCree said agreeably. “I was just calling you on your bullshit, too. Gotta make sure my partner is on his toes.”

Hanzo took a deeper gulp of the coffee and _nearly_ managed to keep a straight face, although he couldn’t stop the small, choking cough. McCree snorted softly, but Hanzo didn’t seem to want to talk about it so he took pity on him.

“A dog, you say?”

Hanzo nodded, studying the coffee in his mug as if it was a mole rat about to spring and start chewing on his ankles.

“You know, I ain’t surprised. You seem like a dog person.”

“What does that mean?” Hanzo’s frown of perplexion furrowed his brow.

“Nothin’, nothin’, I don’t mean anything by it.” McCree waved it off. “What about this dog?”

“It’s a cyberdog, but something in his system appears to be failing. I need to go to Jacobstown to talk to Dr Henry about it.”

McCree blinked, waiting for the other shoe to fall, but Hanzo didn’t appear to be joking. McCree finished off his coffee and waved Francine over for another. Once he had taken another fortifying drink of the awful steaming liquid, he took a breath.

“I’m sorry, say that again? I thought you just said we need to hike miles out of town and up into the mountains for a _dog._ ”

“It’s for the King.” Hanzo tried to deflect.

“The King?” It was McCree’s turn to frown. “You mean, School of Impersonation? That King? Since when you been hanging out there?”

“It’s a good dog!” Hanzo said, strangely defensive. He pushed the mug away and moved to get up. “I’ll just go on my own.”

“Wait, wait,” McCree stopped him before he could leave and drained the last of his terrible, addictive coffee. “I’m just being an ass. I’m coming. Let me just grab my hat and I’ll be good to go.”

***

“Yer kidding me.” McCree had his hands on his hips as he had a stare-down with a growling cyberdog. The strange audition happening on the stage, complete with gyrating hips and a song about hound dogs being crooned by a guy in a pompadour wig and leather jacket only added to the surreality of the situation.

“Rex hates hats.” The King shrugged. “What can I say?”

“I can pack it,” Hanzo started to offer, but McCree turned on a heel and went to wait outside while the Courier and the King finished talking about this _ridiculous_ job. He was leaning against the wall of the School with his arms folded while trying to look like he was _not_ sulking when Hanzo emerged with the dog.

“I thought you had left.” Hanzo looked surprised to see him. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I remember the way, and Rex is capable enough.”

“Naw, I’m comin’. Said I was. Be good to see Torbs and Winston again, anyway.”

Rex growled at McCree again, and McCree glared back at the technology-ridden animal.

“And I am _wearing my hat_.”

Hanzo sighed but thankfully looked at Rex first. “Is this going to be a problem?”

The dog looked defiant for a moment, but eventually lowered his head and gave a huff as he looked away.

“Good. Let’s go.”

***

“He needs a _what_.” McCree couldn’t quite believe his ears once more. Considering that Torbjörn also had an eyebrow raised, he was pretty sure he must have heard right.

“A new brain.” Hanzo repeated. “Dr Henry thinks we should ask Ms Gibson first.”

“Darlin’, you’re killing me here.” McCree put aside the whiskey Torbjörn had only just finished pouring for him and leaned forward so the front legs of his chair sat on the floor again. “You wanna go all the way to Old Lady Gibson’s scrapyard to ask for a _dog brain?_ ”

Rex, sitting beside Hanzo, growled at McCree. 

Hanzo folded his arms and wouldn’t quite look him in the eye. “Yes.”

McCree blew out a breath and got to his feet.

***

Old Lady Gibson was not _nearly_ surprised enough at Hanzo’s question, in McCree’s opinion. Instead of eavesdropping on _that_ conversation, he went and found a seat in the shade on Gibson’s porch and tilted his hat down over his eyes in the guise of taking a nap while actually keeping watch.

Hanzo and the old lady talked for what felt like hours, all while watching the guard dogs take turns at running around the scrap yard and begging for pets from the humans. Rex remained close to Hanzo, standing stiffly when the guard dogs dared to approach him, but he tolerated their presence. McCree hadn’t had a chance to look at the cyberdog too closely before now, and he could see what Hanzo and the King had meant when they said Rex was doing poorly. The cyberdog moved like it was ancient, and it’s front leg would seize and shudder minutely from time to time. It was a stubborn mutt, however; McCree had to give him that. It hadn’t faltered for a moment on their long journey across the desert, and had even helped take down a few geckos.

Eventually, Hanzo and Rex returned to McCree, noticeably new-dog-brain free.

“Nothin’?” McCree asked, trying not to let the sinking feeling in his gut get to him.

“None of them have the right… mentality, for Rex.” Hanzo’s frown was the one of deep thought. McCree prided himself on being able to tell the difference on at least some of his frowns by now. “But she mentioned a dog-breeder out by the Poseidon gas station.”

“That’s all she said about that?” McCree asked dryly.

“Yes.” Hanzo tilted his head, and McCree had to swallow a laugh when Rex unconsciously mimicked the movement. “Why?”

“‘Cuz the only people living by Poseidon these days is Fiends. Mean ones, too. You sure she ain’t trying to get us killed?”

“Only one way to find out.”

***

McCree laid out on the ground, hat tilted over his eyes again, and soaked in the sun. It was almost _too_ hot up here, on the flat second story roof of the abandoned building, but currently it was just nap inducing.

Hanzo poked a sharp elbow into his ribs, and he grunted in response.

“McCree, look at this.” Hanzo whispered, despite being far enough away from any other ears that a shout would be difficult to make out. McCree reluctantly rolled over onto his stomach and readjusted his hat. Rex laid on the other side of Hanzo, paws dangling comfortably as he laid on his back and clearly enjoying the sun. Hanzo absently reached out to scratch the mutt’s belly, which set the tail to thumping on the rooftop. McCree took the binoculars from Hanzo and put them to his eyes.

Across the way from them sat a group of old trailers, the colourful ones that usually had small beds and kitchen sets in them, for reasons that only Pre-War people knew now. McCree wondered if some people were nomadic back then, living in houses that were easy to move based on whatever reasons they had back then. He shook the distracting and ultimately pointless thought off and looked for what Hanzo wanted him to see, and eventually he found a woman feeding a pack of dogs.

“What am I looking at,” McCree started, and as soon as the words were out of his mouth he saw what she was feeding them.

“Is she feeding them what I think she’s feeding them?” Hanzo sounded hesitant.

“If you think she’s feeding them people, then yep.” McCree handed the binoculars back and tried not to think about it very hard, but it was too late. His stomach gurgled unpleasantly, and he felt a bit sick.

“Ugh.” Hanzo put his head down on his arms, apparently similarly affected. Rex had rolled onto his stomach during their conversation, and made a sound and motion like he was going to throw up.

“So… bust?”

“Bust.” Hanzo confirmed. “Rex doesn’t need a human-flesh eating brain.”

Another gagging sound from Rex had them both looking at him. The cyberdog rolled onto his back again and wagged his tail at Hanzo.

“We leaving?”

“I just have one thing to do.” Hanzo said, pulling his sniper rifle off of his back.

***

“You’re killing me.” McCree said, looking across the water at the Legion Fort on the Hill. “You’re really killing me.”

“It’s a terrible idea, I know.” Hanzo was pinching the bridge of his nose. “But it’s the only other place I know with dogs like Rex.”

Rex yawned where he sat beside Hanzo. McCree wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and put his hands on his hips as he looked around, as if hoping the perfect dog with the perfect brain would come sprinting out of the desert at them.

“You could wait here,” Hanzo started pensively.

“Look, I don’t wanna go in there, but if you’re bound and determined to do so then I’m going with you.” McCree said stubbornly despite his dry throat. “If there is any way I can talk you out of it though, let me know.”

Hanzo stared across the water for a beat before looking down at Rex, who looked up at him with adoring eyes and a wag of his tail. Hanzo sighed and headed down to the ferry raft.

“Do they still think we blew up that bunker under there?” McCree asked, scrambling down the hill after him.

“ _Yes_ , so don’t say anything otherwise.” Hanzo frowned at him, but it wasn’t a terribly serious one. “Caesar isn’t exactly happy with me, but as long as he doesn’t suspect I have been working with Yes Man they should tolerate our presence.”

“Right. Gotcha. Don’t even _think_ about Yes Man.”

The problem with not being able to talk about something, McCree decided, was it was then _all_ you can think about. He also decided that he was going to let Hanzo do all the talking and not say a word. Like Hanzo had said, the soldiers around the camp tolerated them— albeit with suspicious looks— but McCree was sweating bullets the entire time, watching for any signs of ambush or hostility. He couldn’t look at the crosses scattered about the camp like grisly decorations without his heart racing, but he just shook his head when Hanzo looked at him in concern.

The hound master was surprisingly receptive to the idea of his favourite dog’s brain being implanted in a cyberdog, and even asked Hanzo to give the dog an ‘honorable death’ in a fight in their arena. McCree nearly stopped Hanzo then, going so far as to touch Hanzo’s arm, but he stopped when he saw the determination on the Courier’s face. Instead of asking if they could get the hell out of there like he so wanted to, he opened his fear-dry mouth and wished him ‘good luck’.

McCree and Rex were ushered to a catwalk that overlooked the arena, and it took McCree effort not to look like the nervous wreck he was when Hanzo walked into the arena with nothing more than his underclothes on his back and a machete in his hand.

“What the hell was I _thinking_.” McCree muttered under his breath. “This is a _terrible_ idea.”

A nose nudged against his hand, and he looked down to see Rex looking up at him with what he could only describe as a guilty expression. McCree hesitated, but he soon relented and he gave the dog a scratch behind the nose but ahead of the clear dome that housed the current and sickly dog brain.

“He’ll be alright.” McCree said, not sure if he was reassuring himself or the mutt. “He’s fought worse.”

***

“I can’t _believe_ you did that.” McCree seethed as he held Hanzo’s arm across his shoulders to help him hobble across the desert. “All this for a _dog?_ ”

“A _good_ dog.” Hanzo slurred, losing his footing once more and falling against him heavily. McCree could feel him burning with fever.

“ _Hanzo_.”

The Courier didn’t respond with anything more that made sense, delirious with a fever that had begun to rage sometime over the night. McCree had been furious when Rex had pawed him awake and he’d found Hanzo had somehow managed to hide a bite on his thigh that he’d obviously treated but still managed to get infected. He was still furious, out here in the desert but on their way back to Jacobstown, but he was reluctantly coming to terms with the fact that it was because he was more scared than angry. The Stimpacks didn’t seem to be doing anything for the infection, and that was about where McCree’s medical expertise ended when it came to this sort of thing.

McCree looked over his shoulder, looking for something to blame for this entire predicament, and saw Rex slinking along after them, ears down and tail drooping, clearly no happier than McCree but still taking the task of watching their backs seriously. While McCree watched, Rex stopped and turned to look behind them, lifting his ears enough to listen for a moment while sniffing the air, then resumed trailing them.

Hanzo chose that time to point at a bit of scrub and slurred out something about sleep before trying to escape McCree’s grip to apparently lay down right where he was. It took some wrangling, but McCree finally managed to stoop and catch him in a fireman’s carry, taking him off his feet before he could wriggle away. Hanzo muttered some unkind things into his shoulder, but moments later he was completely limp, apparently having fallen asleep.

McCree was half a mind of just going straight to Angela in the Old Mormon Fort, but Jacobstown was considerably closer by now so that’s where he headed. 

They were nearly past the last of the abandoned and mostly destroyed buildings when McCree suddenly realized Rex wasn’t behind him anymore. He turned, looking for him, but the mutt was nowhere to be seen amongst the scrub and vehicles rusting to nothing on the cracked pavement.

McCree turned back to his path with a muttered curse, unwilling to take the time to search for a wayward dog, even if Hanzo _hadn’t_ been sick and needing medical attention. 

“It’s _your_ damn dog.” McCree told the unconscious Courier, wishing he’d wake up. He’d want to go after the mutt, but it would at least give McCree some peace of mind. 

He nearly fell over as he spun when a shout rang out alarmingly close. A Fiend wielding a machete leapt out from the sparse cover and was nearly on them when Rex sprang from nowhere and full-on tackled the ambusher, jaws clamped around her throat before they even hit the ground.

McCree could only stare at the dog, heart racing. He hadn’t had a _clue_ that anyone had been there. With Hanzo on his shoulders, there was no way he would have been able to draw his gun quickly enough. 

Rex gave the body another shake with a snarling growl before dropping it and turning to McCree, licking his bloody chops, and gave a tentative wag of his tail.

“Thanks,” McCree said hoarsely, and felt stupid. It was a _dog_. He didn’t understand. 

Despite not understanding, Rex perked up with a _‘whuff’_ and trotted off with a wagging tail, clearly looking for any more potential dangers.

It was starting to get dark as they trekked up the mountain, and Marcus, ever on night-watch duty, was the first to spot them and hurried out to help him with Hanzo’s deadweight.

It wasn’t until the weight left his shoulders that McCree truly felt how exhausted he was, his legs suddenly wobbly and shoulders aching. He trudged in after Marcus, who immediately took Hanzo to the lab where Dr Henry was working late once again. Calamity Jane thundered down the steps from her room when she heard they had a patient, and she steered McCree to a chair before leaping to Dr Henry’s aid.

Despite being so tired that the wooden plank floor was looking like a comfortable enough bed, McCree watched them work while bouncing one leg up and down anxiously. Rex came to sit beside him and looked up at him mournfully, and McCree couldn’t help but start stroking his good hand down the mutt’s back, the repetitive motion soothing and the texture of fur blended with tech somewhat distracting. Still, neither of them really relaxed until Dr Henry announced that all Hanzo needed was a good night’s sleep to let the medication work.

Leaving Rex to keep an eye on Hanzo for a moment, McCree jogged up the steps to knock on Genji’s door. It didn’t take long to realize he was gone, likely on another quest of some sort for Winston. McCree lit the lamp in the room and looked around, and decided Genji likely wouldn’t mind if they crashed there until Hanzo was back on his feet.

When he got back down to the lab, Hanzo had rolled onto his side and had an arm loosely wrapped around Rex’s neck as the mutt sat with his chin resting on the table. McCree laid a gentle hand on Hanzo’s arm, but the Courier didn’t stir, dead asleep. Thankfully, it was easy to tell that the fever had finally broken. Dr Henry was trying to arrange to have a couple cots brought into the lab, but when McCree gave his solution he agreed that a real bed would likely be the better option anyway.

“Oh, before I forget.” McCree handed Dr Henry the disgusting package that Hanzo had risked his life for. “One dog brain.”

Dr Henry shook his head with a wry grin as he took the package. “I’ll run some tests and let you know when I’m ready to do the transplant, then. You boys go get some sleep now.”

Rex stayed glued to his side as he carried the sleeping Hanzo up to Genji’s room, and even nudged the door that McCree indicated open to let them in. Hanzo muttered something as McCree put him in the bed, but he was out like a light once more when the blanket covered him. McCree scrounged around the room and found a sleeping bag with Genji’s extra gear, and laid it out on the floor near the bed where Rex had already taken up watch.

McCree didn’t mean to fall alseep, intending to just try to stretch out and let sore muscles rest while watching over Hanzo, but fall asleep on the hard floor he did. He didn’t know what time he woke up, but it was with Hanzo breathing so heavy as to be nearly snoring against his chest and the blanket from the bed covering them both. Rex laid with his head on McCree’s thigh, a heavy but warm weight. The mutt noticed that McCree was awake but didn’t move, letting out a soft huff as if indicating he was still on watch and all was well.

With his good arm around a sleeping Hanzo, warm and comfortable in the safety of Jacobstown despite laying on a hard plank floor, McCree reached out to scratch Rex behind the ears with his gloved metal hand.

“Good dog.” He told Rex.

***

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know if you caught the theme but Rex is a good dog


End file.
